


Blackout

by staticbees



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: She shook his outstretched hand. “I’m Carolina,” she replied, handing his lighter back.“Nah, keep it. I don’t need it anyway.” He paused. “Carolina? Like those two Earth states?”“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” she retorted, slipping his lighter into her pocket without a second thought.“No, no,” he said hastily, putting his hand by his side. “Just wondering.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song Blackout by Tritonal.

 

. . .

 

_“Did I ever tell you about how we met? See, I was out one night with my buddies...they abandoned me at some ridiculous nightclub, I think it was called… Errera._

_So I'm just sitting there at the bar, bored out of my skull, and I'm flicking this lighter off and on. Then from out of nowhere, she walks up and just grabs the lighter, right out of my hands, and she goes-”_

 

. . .

 

York sat at the bar, staring at the lighter in his hand. The flame was a dull orange, its dim light drowned out by the bright lights of the nightclub. He didn’t smoke, but he had borrowed it from one of his friends who had bought it sometime that evening, and never ended up giving it back. The lighter was a welcome distraction, as he wasn’t too fond of nightclubs in general; despite the fact that he had been dragged there by his buddies that night.

 

He had a feeling that his friends had left already, probably sneaking out when he wasn’t looking. He had looked for them earlier, and seeing as he wasn’t able to find them, either they were extremely drunk, or they had abandoned him here.

 

York was pretty sure it was the latter- sometimes his friends were kind of assholes, and he had felt himself drifting apart from them for a while now. He didn’t know where they had gone, or why, but honestly, he wasn’t sure he cared either way. Well, besides that fact that they had most likely taken the car with them, which had left him with no way home.

 

He ran his finger through the fire, careful not to get burned. It was a trick one of his friends from high school had taught him, and although it wasn’t that impressive, it helped pass the time. Soft footsteps made him spin around, just in time to see a woman with hair tinted a soft purple by the club lights reach out and grab the lighter from his hand, the flame extinguishing in one swift motion.

 

“Fancy tricks,” she remarked, flicking the lighter back on

 

He stared at her, a frown on his face. “What is it?” she asked, her hand on her hip.

 

The woman looked like she was in her mid-20s, but her eyes seemed older, deep green irises staring at his lighter with curiosity. She wore a sleeveless teal dress that showed off her curves but flared around her legs, with a low neckline, unlike the tight, revealing clothing some of the other women he had seen in this club wore. She had a simple silver necklace with a green locket around her neck.

 

“I’m just trying to figure out what color your hair is,” he answered honestly. “I’d really love my lighter back,” he added, mostly as an afterthought.

 

“Red,” she responded curtly. She ran her finger over the logo on the lighter, squinting at it. “Club Errera… Isn’t that the name of this place? Did you get it here?”

 

“Oh, no, not me. My… friend.” He gestured vaguely at the door. He stuck out his hand, a fairly old fashioned gesture that he had picked up back in college. “My name’s York.”

 

She shook his outstretched hand. “I’m Carolina,” she replied, handing his lighter back.

 

“Nah, keep it. I don’t need it anyway.” He paused. “Carolina? Like those two Earth states?”

 

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” she retorted, slipping his lighter into her pocket without a second thought.

 

“No, no,” he said hastily, putting his hand by his side. “Just wondering.”

 

. . .

 

_“Thank you, Allison, but I would prefer to stay, with York. He will need me to maintain his pain medication.”_

_“An A.I. can't fall into enemy hands, D. If you're in there when he dies, you know what the armour's protocol will do to you.”_

_“I would prefer to stay with York.”_

_“That's very kind of you, D.”_

_“It's just part of what makes us human, Tex.”_

 

. . .

 

 _You know, D,_ York remarked to his A.I. _I would die for them._

 

He was standing next to the arena, watching Carolina, Wash, North and South train together.

 

**…that statement is quite illogical, York.**

 

York laughed, a soft chuckle that was lost in the sounds of battle coming from beneath his feet.

 

_Now you sound like Spock._

 

 **Spock?** Delta questioned.

 

_It’s just from some old Earth show I saw once. Never mind._

 

**Ah. It just seems strange, that you would willingly sacrifice your life for them.**

 

_They… well, they’re practically family. All the Freelancers are. Sure, we have our differences, but we work together, we know each other better than we know ourselves._

 

Delta stood for a moment, humming in thought.

 

**I see.**

 

He logged off, leaving York to his own thoughts.

 

. . .

 

_“How long has he been there?”_

_“He hasn't left her side yet.”_

_“It's been days.”_

_“And he's dedicated.”_

 

. . .

 

York sat by her side, watching Carolina’s breath rise and fall. She still hadn’t woken up, and it had been days. Although the doctors assured him it would take her awhile to recover from what had happened, he wasn’t convinced, and they had lied before.

 

Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he could trust anyone since CT’s death. He was sure the Director had known about what might happen with multiple implants- the man- her own father- hadn’t even helped her, just dismissed them, and stood there as they left. Who knows what might’ve happened to Carolina if Texas hadn’t intervened.

 

York shuddered, putting his hand over Carolina’s. Her skin felt cold, and he rubbed his fingers over her pulse, thankful that the pain of the A.Is hadn’t damaged her brain- or worse, killed her. He didn’t know if he could bear that happening, not now. He sighed, laid down beside her, and closed his eyes, exhausted.

 

. . .

 

_“Carolina… Let's not do this...it doesn't have to be this way!”_

_“What are you doing here? Why are you helping her?!”_

_“It's not about her! I'm trying to do the right thing- you should too!”_

_“I am doing the right thing! I'm not deserting. She just wants your A.I, York. She already went after Wyoming.”_

_“Is that what they told you?”_

_“I'm going to stop her! I have to.”_

_“You don't have to prove anything! Come on! Let's leave this place. I can get you help! I can get those damn things outta your head! You can trust me.”_

_“Maybe… But you can't trust me.”_

 

. . .

 

York opened his eyes, staring at the lighter that floated near his head, a yellow logo printed on the side.

 

He reached for it, scanning the lift desperately for a familiar teal form. But no, she was gone. He pulled the lighter to his chest, clutching it as if it could bring her back, as if it would make her understand.

 

He tucked the lighter into a slot in his armor and pushed off from the wall, using the momentum to make his way down. As he stepped onto the lift, a crash made him reach for his gun, instantly alert. He felt a rumble, and it took him a moment before he could process his horrified realization. The Mother Of Invention was crashing, and he had to find Carolina.

 

He raced outside, consulting Delta as he ran.

 

_How much damage, D?_

 

**The ship will not regain flight capabilities.**

 

_So we’re stuck here? …where are we, anyway?_

 

**Sidewinder, designated Simulation Outpost 9. It is an ice planet, with a thick layer of snow on the surface. However, we may be able to find a ship which will take us to the nearest inhabited planet.**

 

_We have to find Lina first. I-_

 

York stopped short, watching from the top of the ship as Maine approached Carolina, struggling to get up. He lifted her up, and ripped out her neural implants, as York stood, frozen. He reached out, _but it was too late, and Maine was flinging Carolina off the cliff, and Tex was fleeing, and the Director was shouting something and he had to get away, had to do something, had to escape, had to save her-_

 

**York. The most logical course of action is to find a vehicle that will take us off the planet and plan from there.**

 

York nodded, numbly climbing down the other side of the ship, where the Director and his men couldn’t see him. He started to run, trying to pound down his fear and anger and sadness with every step.

 

. . .

 

_“Still no ID on our female trouble maker. But given what I know about South's last location, fairly certain the odds are in my favor.”_

_“Again, I must point out that from a statistical standpoint, the odds of Agent Carolina-”_

_“-In other news, hurricane Delta continues to rain on my parade.”_

 

. . .

 

She was alive. She had to be. York had intercepted a transmission from Project Freelancer, and they had said _she_. Not Wyoming. Not Maine.

 

Maybe Texas, but York, even though he knew it was a slim chance, even though they had said she was dead, York was hoping against hope that it was Carolina they were talking about.

 

. . .

 

_“Agent Foxtrot 12, journal entry 0424. Intercepted another transmission from command today. They have confirmed that... Agent Texas continues to evade their response teams. And she still does possess the Omega AI. Nothing more to report.”_

 

— — —

 

She wasn’t alive. They had confirmed it. York had intercepted a transmission from Project Freelancer, and they had said Texas. Not Carolina.

 

He had known it might be her, he had known it was a slim chance, they had said she was dead, and how could he have been so stupid to even hope that it was Carolina they were talking about, how could he have set himself up so perfectly for disappointment?

 

. . .

 

_“What would you have told her, York?”_

_“I would've told her...that I understand why she did what she did. I just wish she hadn’t. I wish she could've learned to let things go. I guess I should too.”_

 

. . .

 

He wished he could’ve had one last conversation with her. All she knew- all she would ever know, he now realized- was that he had betrayed her. _He had betrayed her, the Director, and Project Freelancer, and he knew without a doubt that she had believed that until she-_

 

**York. You did the logical thing.**

 

York frowned.

 

 _It wasn’t,_ he retorted. _You know it wasn’t._

 

 **Maybe it was not logical.** Delta hesitated. **But… it was right.**

 

York smiled sadly.

 

_I must be rubbing off on you, D._

 

 **Yes,** Delta answered. **You must be.**

 

. . .


End file.
